


Shakespeare Could Never

by PizzaHorse



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Diary/Journal, Gen, Reading, Sad, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 19:05:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18784312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PizzaHorse/pseuds/PizzaHorse
Summary: Lena's gone, but she left behind a very valuable possession.





	1. Cover

Webby knew it wasn't right to snoop.

Of course, that had never really stopped her before.

Life in the mansion all by herself easily became mundane once she started walking and talking and generally fending for herself. There weren't that many people to snoop on, just granny and Scrooge and the occasional important visitor. Still, she'd perfected the art of vent exploration, using the air ducts as her own secret passageway, and the portal to freedom.

It was all well and good for granny to assume she was cooped up in her room all day, when she was really out galavanting around the manor. It helped that granny had a strict cleaning schedule, which she stuck to every single day. Everything was precise and orderly, which made avoiding her extremely easy, and it made spying on Scrooge and company even easier.

But that was a different kind of intrusion, one she didn't really consider to be an invasion of privacy, for some reason. Because she lived there, in the manor, she deserved to know what was going on and who was coming and going, even if she didn't own the home and had no actual claim to it. She still lived there, and it wasn't fair to expect someone of her age to sit quietly day in and day out, without any real excitement. Her previous incursions didn't feel as wrong as the dilemma she faced now.

She'd peeked into Lena's journal once before, on the night of that fateful eclipse. The night Lena ceased to exist. She'd felt guilty about it then, and she felt guilty about the idea of it now, somehow more so than when Lena was actually among the living.

But this book, full of stories and inner thoughts and poems, was the last connection she had to her best friend. Someone she presumed she'd never see again. Webby reasoned with herself that  _someone_  should know about the private thoughts and feelings of such a young soul, if only to be able to preserve them.

To Webby's knowledge, very few people had known Lena. Her existence went mostly unnoticed by the majority of the population, although Webby could say the same of her own life if she considered it. But Webby still had time to exist, to experience the joys and wonders of the world. Lena's time was up. Now all that was left were a few seemingly worthless trinkets, most of which Webby couldn't understand the significance of, but assumed they had meant something to Lena.

She'd taken it upon herself to clear out Lena's old home, although the space could barely be called that.  _Nobody_  should have been living there, but for Lena, it had been the only shelter she knew.

Taking everything that looked like it held any sort of value felt almost like stealing, except if somehow Lena ever were to appear again, Webby would gladly return it all. But she knew if she left anything of worth, it would no doubt succumb to the elements or be pillaged by an actual looter. Not that there seemed to be anything of actual value, at least not to anyone aside from herself. Everything in that damp underground amphitheater was a part of Lena, a piece of her that proved she was real and she had thoughts and feelings and hobbies.

The most important thing Webby retrieved was the journal. She'd kept it in a nightstand drawer for the past several days, opening and closing the drawer multiple times a day to make sure it was still there. Of course it was, and double-triple-quadruple checking was silly, but this small book held the inner thoughts and feelings of the person Webby cared about most, and it was oh-so-important that nothing bad happened to it.

But every time Webby peeked in on it, she debated with herself. She wanted to open it up and absorb every single page, every private thought and secret dream, to really get to know her former best friend. Lena had always been so closed off and guarded, and Webby would have preferred to hear about her inner emotions directly, but that was impossible now.

That was how Webby ended up sitting on her bed, with the journal in her lap, cautious and shaky hands reaching for the cover. It felt like a gross invasion of privacy, and a part of her  _still_  didn't want to look. But she had to know; she had to learn more about that beautiful, wonderful girl named Lena.

The dates spanned back to about a year ago, before the two of them had met. Pages and pages of text, words left unsaid and almost lost, had Webby not recovered this object. Well, the best place to start was probably the beginning. With a deep breath and a heavy heart, the young duckling dove in.


	2. August '17

**8/15/17**

_Stole a blacklight today. Aunt Magica was so proud that I finally did something "evil." Jokes on her. I put it down here and the ultraviolet light means there aren't any shadows for her to inhabit. Guess who's getting some peace and quiet for ONCE in her life?_

_It's weird, though, knowing she can't get to me right now. I can't stay down here forever, but at least I'll be able to sleep soundly. I can hear my own thoughts for once. And I can finally use this journal. At least when I'm gone, some part of me will survive. And Aunt Magica never has to know._

 

**8/18/17**

_I'm doing my best to settle in to Duckburg. This old amphitheater was a good find. Surprised nobody else was already camping in it. It was pretty hidden. Magica helped find it, what with her being able to travel through solid objects. I guess she's good for something._

_Can't believe there's power here, too. I guess when the richest duck in the world owns the city, he can afford to keep the lights on in this place even when no one's using it. Who even designed this place? An amphitheater next to the ocean, with built in electricity. Like that's not some kind of hazard. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll get electrocuted._

 

**8/19/17**

_Seems like I've got a few months before Magica's master plan can be put into action. And we've got a few months to actually come up with a plan. Can't believe she's been stewing for 15 years and hasn't thought of anything. But I guess since it's been so long, whatever we come up with, Scrooge will never see it coming. Magica says he's like, super old, so it can't be that hard to get the dime, right?_

 

**8/22/17**

_It's oddly calming here. Listening to the waves every night. Hearing the tide fade in and out. Getting some quiet for the first time in my life. I guess this is how normal people feel. Lying awake at night, alone with their thoughts. Nobody yelling or belittling them all the time. The quiet is almost eerie. But it feels so good to finally get one over on Aunt Magica. The look on her face when I flipped on the light and she faded away. Priceless! She was super mad afterwards, but it's not like she can do anything to me other than be a nag. She's just a shadow. A super annoying shadow._

 

**8/23/17**

_The waiting kind of sucks. Just finding things to do around Duckburg until it's "time." I guess most kids my age are in school or playing sports or whatever. School's totally boring! I remember spending time at some posh boarding school out in St. Canard. They had really nice dorms to sleep in and like a 24/7 cafeteria and I totally sold fake hall passes to rich kids for spare cash. Was nice for a few months until faculty finally figured out I didn't even go there. Real top notch security in that joint. I went to a few classes to keep up appearances, but I have no idea how anyone can do that for 8 hours a day, every weekday. That's nuts. But I guess that's the kind of place rich bitches dump their kids and tell them it's because they're special and smart when really they just don't have time to raise a hatchling. I heard the same story from a bunch of kids. I also hosted faux therapy sessions. It started out as trying to get info to blackmail those dopes, but honestly, their lives were too sad. It was all pretty fun while it lasted though._

 

**8/24/17**

_Kind of weird how this long journey is coming to an end soon. I've been traveling the world, seeing the sights, slowly working my way to Duckburg. Now that I'm here, it's weird. This big thing I'm destined to do is almost over. I don't know if I'm ready. But I don't have a choice._

 

**8/29/17**

_Aunt Magica says when we get the dime, I can be my own person. She'll have enough magic to free me and separate us. I always figured that once we got the dime, my life would be over. I don't like to think about the fact that I was made merely to serve a purpose, but it's true. It's a truth I can't avoid. I don't know if I really want to be my own person. I don't have anywhere to go and I've never really had any friends. I guess when my aunt gets the dime, I could stay with her. I don't know if it's worth it, though. Nobody would miss me if I just faded out of existence, like the plan was all along. I could disappear, and the world wouldn't be any worse off. Probably for the best._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah I've had this idea since like December and I just haven't gotten off my ass to finish it.


End file.
